Boon of the Seer-in-law

He was a global guru, revered greatly and loved more by the thousands whose lives he had had transformed. But for us he was just Ena, the name used by his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. It is difficult to believe that I had known him for less than five years.

Ena and Ema were my daughter-in-law’s grandparents, and we immediately became part of the Sunday family lunch in their gracious, spacious home. We were ensconced there before Akshata and my son got married, before they went to live with them, and much before Kahaan and later Kabir fortified the magnet that drew us into that energizing circle.

Ena in his rocking chair facing the door, Ema in her more stable one with her back to it, the couple was a gravitational centre. Every weekday morning from 9.30 to 11, it was only Ena in his universal identity as Ramesh Balsekar, as he conducted his daily Q&A with the multicultural seekers who packed his large verandah. Now that he’s gone where will his disciples find an answer to their myriad confusions?

And what about a family bereft of its focal point? As adults we are denied the carefree boon granted to the very young and the very old. Little children bring it swaddled in their innocence; wisdom bestows it on the aged. Kabir at nine months is still gestating to a consciousness of the world beyond his mother’s arms. Kahaan is a precocious almost-three-year-old, but, while we flounder, he seems to have made a quick peace with life without the familiar presence.

The two had a special bond. The seekers noticed the child confident of his place in the scheme of things as he sat quietly in his great grandfather’s lap throughout the session, and clapped along with the closing bhajans. We saw it in the way the seer understood at a deeper level what had left us, doting grandparents, only amused. The toddler and the Master, each had easy access to intimations of immortality; we alas, were too blinkered by arrogant intellect.

Ema left us this June, shortly after she had brought in her 90th birthday with her equally sprightly friends and her devoted family. Last Sunday, Ena followed her. They had lived together for 69 years, and even gurus of negativist philosophies cannot negate the cosmic extension of such an enduring bond. If their consecutive deaths were merely preordained –as everything is according to the Advaita philosophy expounded by Ramesh Balsekar– then destiny is less whimsical than we think.

Staring at Ena’s sparse, 92-year-old frame weighed down by the marigolds on a municipal crematorium’s heartless platform, I preferred to think instead of an imminent reunion. In the mythology of my own Zoroastrian faith, predeceased loved ones, all restored to their glowing youth, rush to the gates of heaven to welcome the newly arrived soul. It’s a reassuring thought for those about to cross over and a comforting one for those they leave behind.

Three months ago, I had stepped diffidently into their room one tear-streaked dawn to see Ena and Ema lying on their joined-together beds as they had for almost 70 years. She was covered in garlands; he had been slightly sedated, but his eyes lids fluttered open and he gazed upon her wordlessly.

Then, as they carried her out of the bedroom door in her favourite sari of quiet tussar, he shuffled to his feet, joined his palms together and murmured, ‘She was perfect.’ It was a crystal moment , capturing marital bliss, loss and my own imperfections.

Now goodbye will turn to a welcome. Ema will be elegantly turned out, as always. And Ena will impishly pull out a neatly pasted clipping from his kurta pocket and read aloud the joke which he had, as always, saved up for her restrained delight.

****

Alec Smart said: “Why do pilots keep fighting? Because they work in a cockpit.”

DISCLAIMER : Views expressed above are the author's own.

Author

Bachi Karkaria's Erratica and its cheeky sign-off character, Alec Smart, have had a growing league of followers since 1994 when the column began in the Metropolis on Saturday. It now appears on the Edit Page of the Times of India, every Thursday. It takes a sly dig at whatever has inflated political/celebrity egos, and got public knickers in a twist that week. It makes you chuckle, think and marvel at the elasticity of the English language. Bachi Karkaria also writes Giving Gyan in the Mumbai Mirror, and its fellow publications in other cities. It is a shooting-from-the-lip advice column to the lovelorn and otherwise torn, telling them to stop cribbing and start living -- all in her her branded pithy, witty style.

Bachi Karkaria's Erratica and its cheeky sign-off character, Alec Smart, have had a growing league of followers since 1994 when the column began in the Metr. . .

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Bachi Karkaria's Erratica and its cheeky sign-off character, Alec Smart, have had a growing league of followers since 1994 when the column began in the Metropolis on Saturday. It now appears on the Edit Page of the Times of India, every Thursday. It takes a sly dig at whatever has inflated political/celebrity egos, and got public knickers in a twist that week. It makes you chuckle, think and marvel at the elasticity of the English language. Bachi Karkaria also writes Giving Gyan in the Mumbai Mirror, and its fellow publications in other cities. It is a shooting-from-the-lip advice column to the lovelorn and otherwise torn, telling them to stop cribbing and start living -- all in her her branded pithy, witty style.

Bachi Karkaria's Erratica and its cheeky sign-off character, Alec Smart, have had a growing league of followers since 1994 when the column began in the Metr. . .